UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822019547918 


OETRY    of    the     JifELLS 


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COLLECTED  BY 
SAMUEL    BATCHKLDER,  JR 


RIVERSIDE    PRESS 
PRINTED    IN    AID  OF   THE   CAMBRIDGE   CHIME 

BY    H.    O.    HOUGHTON    AND    COMPANY 
l858 


To  call  the  fold  to  Church  in  time. 
We  chime. 

When  joy  and  mirth  are  on  the  wing, 
We  ring. 

When  \ve  lament  a  departed  soul, 
We  toll." 


> 


L 

. 


PAGE 

Proem.     Isabella  James 5 

The  Bell  at  Sea.     Mrs.  Hemans 8 

The  Chimes  of  England.     Arthur  C.  Ctxe    .     .     .     .  10 

An  Incident  of  the  Fire  at  Hamburg.      Lowell     .     .  14 

Matin  Bells.     Arthur  C.  Coxe     .     • 18 

The  Bells  of  Shandon.     Rev.  Francis  Mahony       .     .  21 

The  Sabbath  Bells.     Charles  Lamb' 23 

Carillon.     Longfellow 24 

Song  of  the  Bell.     Longfellow 28 

The  Cambridge  Chime.     E.  Batchelder       ...  30 

Old  Church  Bells.      Dublin  University  Magazine    .     .  32 

The  Bells.     Edgar  A.  Poe 34 

The  Spire  of  Strasburg  Cathedral.       Longfellow    .     .  40 

Church  Bells.     Keble 46 

St.  Sylvan's  Bell.     Arthur  C.  Coxc      ......  51 

Godminster  Chimes.     Lowell •      •  57 

A  Reverie.     From  a  Friend      .                6 1 


^  A 

0— x, 


From  "  Urania,  a  Rhymed  Lesson."     O.  IV  Holmes  .  64 

From  "  In  Memoriam,  CIV."      Tennyson   ....  65 

Those  Evening  Bells.     Moore 67 

From  ".The  Golden  Legend."     Longfellow    ...  68 

From  "  In  Memoriam,  XXVIII."     Tennyson    ...  69 

How  soft  the  Music  of  those  Village  Bells.     Coivpcr  71 

L'  Knvoi.      Editor 72 


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ROM   the  square  tower, 
-   Heavy  and  flow, 

Toll  the  sad   funeral 
Echoes  of  woe. 

Sadly  and  solemnly  roll  forth  the  knell, 
Firft  for  the  loved  one  a  requiem  swell. 

Sweet  was  the  mufic, 
Thrilling  and  low, 
From   lips  that   once   sounded 
Like  water's  clear   flow — 


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of  time, 

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In   his 

heart  there  was 

pealing 

a  heav- 

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enly   chime. 

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Loudly  and  clear, 

Waves  of  loved   harmonies, 

He  cannotrhear; 

For  the  voice  that  once  chanted 

On  earth  the  glad   ftrain, 

Exalted  to  glory, 

Repeats  it  again. 

Then  why  {hould  he  liften 

To  hope's  earthly  bells  ? 

For  all   is   fruition 

Where  joyful   he  dwells. 


Rino-  from  the  tower, 

O  ' 

Merrily,  clear, 

Over  the   Bride, 

Whose  vows  are  made  here. 
Cheerfully,  hopefully,  wedded   in   heart, 
What  God  joins   together   no  creature 
(hall   part. 

Ring  from  the  belfry, 

Gently  a   peal 

What  time  hath  in  keeping 

Of  woe  or  of  weal — 
For  the    Infant    unconscioufly   brought 

to  acquire 
In  waters  baptismal  the  Spirit  of  fire. 

Ring  out  over   hill-fide, 
Chime  out  over  sea, 


The  gospel's  glad  sound, 
To  the  bond  and  the  free; 

Bid    the    deaf   and  the    blind    and    the 
lame  to  the  feaft, 

And  tell  to  the    nations  the  tidings  of 

Peace. 

Isabel/a  James. 


THE    BELL   AT   SEA. 


HEN  the  tide's  billowy  swell  ,.' 

Had  reached  its  height, 
Then  pealed  the  Rock's  lone 


Bell 
Sternly  by  night. 

% 

Far  over  cliff  and  surge, 
Swept  the  deep  sound, 


Making  each  wild  wind's  dirge 
Still  more  profound. 


Yet  that  funereal  tone 

The  sailor  blefled, 
Steering  through  darkness  on, 
With  fearless  breaft. 


E'en  thus  may  we,  that  float 

On  life's  wide  sea, 
Welcome  each  warning  note, 

Stern  though  it  be  ! 

Mrs.  llemans. 


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THE   CHIMES   OF   ENGLAND. 
Upon  the  bells. — Zechariah. 

)HE  chimes,  the  chimes  of  Moth- 
erland, 

Of  England  green  and  old, 
That    out  from  fane    and  ivied 

tower 

A  thousand  years  have  tolled  ; 
How  glorious  muft  their  mufic  be 
As  breaks  the  hallowed  day, 
And  calleth  with  a  seraph's  voice 
A  nation  up  to  pray  ! 

Those  chimes  that  tell  a  thousand  tales, 
Sweet  tales  of  olden  time  ; 


'( 


I  J 

k  / 


I 


9 


CO 


1/U 


And  ring  a  thousand  memories 

At  vesper,  and  at  prime  ! 

At  bridal  and  at  burial, 

For  cottager  and  king, 

Those  chimes — those  glorious  Chriftian 

chimes, 
How  blefTedly  they  ring ! 

The  chimes,  those  chimes  of  Mother- 
land, 

Upon  a  Chriftmas  morn, 
Outbreaking  as  the  angels  did, 
For  a  Redeemer  born  ! 
How  merrily  they  call  afar, 
To  cot  and  baron's  hall, 
With  holly  decked  and  miftletoe, 
To  keep  the  feftival ! 


ro 


,  r\iis>  rm 


.T 


The    chimes    of   England,    how    they 

peal 

From  tower  and  Gothic  pile, 
Where  hymn  and    swelling   anthem  fill 
The  dim  cathedral  aisle ; 
Where  windows  bathe  the  holy  light 
"V  On  prieftly  heads  that  falls, 
And  ftain  the  florid  tracery 
Of  banner-dighted  walls  ! 

And  then,  those  Eafter  bells,  in  Spring, 
Those  glorious  Eafter  chimes  ! 

loyally  they  hail  thee  round, 
^ueen  of  holy  times  ! 
From  hill  to  hill,  like  sentinels, 
Responfively  they  cry, 
And  fing  the  rifing  of  the  Lord, 


' 


From  vale  to  mountain  high. 


DC 


1 


I  love  ye — chimes  of  Motherland, 
With  all  this  soul  of  mine, 


And  bless  the  Lord  that  I  am  sprung 
Of  good  old  Englifh  line  : 
And  like  a  son  I  fing  the  lay 
That  England's  glory  tells  ; 
For  (he  is  lovely  to  the  Lord, 
For  you,  ye  Chriftian  bells  ! 

And  heir  of  her  anceftral  fame, 

Though  far  away  my  birth, 

Thee  too  I  love,  my  Foreft-land, 
Y  The  joy  of  all  the  earth  ; 
^  For  thine  thy  mother's  voice  fhall  be, 

And  here — where  God  is  King, 


- 


With    Englim    chimes,    from    Chriftian 


spires, 
/  The  wilderness  mail  ring. 


- 


, 


P 

; 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  FIRE  AT  HAMBURG. 


f"T"AHE     tower    of    old    Saint    Nicholas    soared 
/       J.  upward  to  the  fkies, 

.    Like    some    huge    piece    of    Nature's    make,    the 
\  growth  of  centuries  ; 

You  could  not    deem   its    crowding   spires  a  work 

of  human  art, 

They  seemed  to    ftruggle    light  ward  from  a  fturdy 
living  heart. 

j  . 

Not  Nature's  self  more  freely  speaks  in  cryftal  or    t 

r  •      i  \ 

in  oak, 
Than,    through    the    pious    builder's    hand,  in    that 

gray  pile  (he  spoke ; 
And  as  from  acorn  springs  the  oak,  so,  freely  and 

alone, 
Sprang  from  his  heart  this  hymn  to  God,  sung  in    j; 

obedient  ftone. 


or      > — -ra 


! 

Never  did    rock  or  ftream  or    tree    lay  claim  with 

i=  ^ 

better  right 


15  n 

I 

'  '  J 

A  whim    of  Nature    cryftallized    flowly   in    granite 

tough  ; 
The    thick    spires    yearned     towards    the    fky    in 

quaint,  harmonious  lines, 
And    in    broad    sunlight    bafked     and    flept,    like    a 

grove  of  blafted  pines. 


JJ 

To  all  the  adorning    sympathies  of  fhadow  and  of 

light  j 

And,    in    that    foreft     petrified,    as    forefter    there 
dwells 


Stout  Herman,  the    old    sacriftan,  sole   lord  of  all 


.  its  bells. 

Surge  leaping    after    surge,  the  fire    roared    onward 

red  as  blood, 
Till    half   of   Hamburg    lay    engulfed    beneath    the 


eddying  flood  ; 


For    miles    away,  the  fiery  spray  poured    down  its 

:       , 

deadly  rain, 

And    back    and    forth    the    billows     sucked,    and 
paused,  and  burft  again. 

From  square  to  square  with  tiger   leaps  rufhed  on 

the  luftful  fire, 
The  air  to  leeward  fhuddered  with  the  gasps  of  its 

defire  ; 
And    church    and   palace,    which    even    now    flood 

whelmed  but  to  the  knee, 
Lift  their  black   roofs  like  breakers  lone    amid  the      [ 

whirling  sea. 
I 

Up    in    his    tower    old    Herman    sat    and    watched 

with  quiet  look  ; 
His  soul    had    trufted    God    too    long  to  be  at  laft 

forsook  ; 
r       He    could    not    fear,    for    surely    God    a    pathway 

would   unfold 

' 
Through  this    red    sea  for  faithful    hearts,  as    once 

7 


.  But  scarcely  can  he  cross  himself,  or  on  his  good 
saint  call, 

Before  the  sacrilegious  flood  o'erleaped  the  church- 
yard wall  ; 

And,  ere  a  pater  half  was  said,  'mid  smoke  and 
crackling  glare, 

His    ifland    tower    scarce   juts    its   head    above    the 

/  wide  despair. 

/ 

Upon  the  peril's  desperate  peak  his  heart  ftood  up 

sublime  ; 
His    firft    thought    was    for    God    above,    his    next 

was  for  his  chime  ; 

•'•? 

11  Sing  now  and  make  your  voices  heard  in  hymns 

of  praise,"  cried  he,    . 
"  As  did  the  Israelites  of  old,  safe  walking  through 

the  sea! 


4t>  Through  this    red    sea  our    God    hath    made  the 
pathway  safe  to  fhore  ; 


Our  promised  land  (lands  full  in  fight  ;  fhout  now 
as  ne'er  before !  " 


' 

f 

)                                                              l8 

. 

t 

*•;    And  as  the  tower  came    crufhing  down,  the  bells, 

' 

• 

I 

in  clear  accord, 

4_    Pealed  forth  the  grand  old  German    hymn,  —  "  All 

: 

• 

V 
( 

good  souls,  praise  the  Lord  !  " 

. 

- 

Loivell. 

, 

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v' 

, 

MATIN    BELLS. 

- 

^ 

I  myself  will  awake  right  early.  —  Psalter. 

j 

..; 

: 

I.               &JiH'E    SUI1   'S   UP   betimeS> 

l 
' 

• 

•• 

And    the    dappled    Eaft    is    blufh- 
ing, 

-( 

, 

And  the  merry  matin-chimes, 

'' 

•• 

• 

i                 They  are  gufhing  —  Chriftian  —  gufhing  ! 

••; 

. 

They  are  tolling  in  the  tower, 

/ 

r 

•• 

. 

For  another  day  begun  ; 

, 

T 

And  to  hail  the  rifing  hour 

f: 

. 

Of  a  brighter,  brighter  Sun  ! 

' 

" 

J 

Rise  —  Chriftian  —  rise  ! 

^ 

,; 

For  a  sunfhine  brighter  far 

; 

r 

. 
\ 

Is  breaking  o'er  thine  eyes, 

..; 

; 

Than  the  bonny  morning  ftar  ! 

, 

' 

•' 

i 

•\ 

:••;  • 

.. 

• 


«•• 

a 


The  lark  is  in  the  fky, 

And  his  morning-note  is  pouring 
He  hath  a  wing  to  fly, 

So  he's  soaring — Chriftian — soarin 
His  neft  is  on  the  ground, 

But  only  in  the  night ; 
For  he  loves  the  matin-sound, 

And  the  higheft  heaven's  height. 
Hark— Chriftian— Hark ! 

At  heaven-door  he  fings  ! 
And  be  thou  like  the  lark, 

With  thy  soaring  spirit-wings  ! 


The  merry  matin-bells, 

In  their  watch-tower  they  are  swinging  ; 
For  the  day  is  o'er  the  dells, 

And  they're  Tinging — Chriftian — finging  ! 
They  have  caught  the  morning  beam 

Through  their  ivied  turret's  wreath, 
And  the  chancel-window's  gleam 

Is  glorious  beneath  : 


/ 

v> 

I 

&• 


/ 


Go — Chriftian — go, 

For  the  altar  flameth  there, 
And  the  snowy  veftments  glow, 

Of  the  prefbyter  at  prayer  ! 


F\\ 


There  is  morning  incense  flung 

From  the  childlike  lily-flowers  ; 
And  their  fragrant  censer  swung, 

Make  it  ours — Chriftian — ours  ! 
<N 

And  hark,  our  Mother's  hymn, 

^V  J  And  the  organ-peals  we  love  ! 

^  They  sound  like  cherubim 

At  their  orisons  above  ! 
Pray — Chriftian — pray, 

At  the  bonny  peep  of  dawn, 
Ere  the.  dewdrop  and  the  spray 
That  chriften  it,  are  gone  ! 

Arthur    C.    Coxe. 


• 
' 


G 

^ 
*) 
C 


THE    BELLS    OF    SHANDON. 

A \rjPITH   deep  affection  and  recollection 
~']Mi>,     I  often  think  of  those  Shandon  bells, 

^!^3D-6 

Whose  sound  so  wild  would,  in  days  of  childhood, 

Fling  round  my  cradle  their  magic  spells  ; 
On  this  I  ponder  where'er  I  wander, 
And  thus  grow  fonder,  sweet  Cork,  of  thee, 

With  thy  bells  of  Shandon, 

That  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters  of  the  River  Lee. 

I've  heard  bells  chiming  full  many  a  clime  in, 

Tolling  sublime  in  Cathedral  {hrine, 
While  at  a  glib  rate  brass  tongues  would  vibrate, — 

But  all  their  mufic  spoke  naught  like  thine  ; 
For  memory  dwelling  on  each  proud  swelling 
Of  thy  belfry  knelling  its  bold  notes   free, 
Made  the  bells  of  Shandon 
Sound   far  more  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters  of  the   River  Lee. 


I've  heard  bells  tolling  "  old  Adrian's  mole  "  in, 

Their  thunder  rolling  from  the  Vatican, 
And  cymbals  glorious  swinging  uproarious 

In  the  gorgeous  turrets  of  Notre  Dame  ; 
But  thy  sounds  were    sweeter   than    the  Dome  of 

Peter 

Flings  o'er  the  Tiber  tolling  solemnly, — - 
Oh  the  bells  of  Shandon 
Sound  so  grand  on 
pleasant  waters  of  the  River  Lee. 


J 


There's  a  bell  in  Moscow,  while  on  tower  and  kiosko 

In  St.   Sophia  the  Turkman  gets, 
And  loud  in  air  calls  men  to  prayer 

From   the  tapering  summit  of  tall  minarets  ; 
Such  empty  phantom   I  freely  grant  them, 
But  there's  an  anthem   more  dear  to  me, — 
'Tis  the  bells  of  Shandon 
That  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters  of  the  River  Lee. 

Re-~u.  Francis  Mabony. 


THE    SABBATH    BELLS. 


HE  cheerful  Sabbath  bells,  wherever  heard, 
Strike  pleasant  on  the  sense,  moft  like  the 

voice 

Of  one   who,  from    the    far-off  hills,  pro- 
claims 

Tidings  of  good  to  Zion  :  chiefly  when 
Their  piercing  tones  fall  sudden  on  the  ear 
Of  the  contemplant,  solitary  man, 
Whom  thoughts  abstruse  or  high  have  chanced  to  lure 
Forth  from  the  walks  of  men,  revolving  oft, 
And  oft  again,  hard  matter  which  eludes 
And  baffles  his  pursuit, — thought-fick  and  tired 
Of  controversy,  where  no  end  appears, 
No  clue  to  his  research,  the  lonely  man 
Half  wifhes  for  society  again. 
Him,  thus  engaged,  the  Sabbath  bells  salute, 
Sudden !  his  heart  awakes,  his  ear  drinks  in 
The  cheering  mufic  ;  his  relenting  soul 
Yearns  after  all  the  joys  of  social  life, 
And  softens  with  the  love  of  human  kind. 

Charles  Lamb. 


iljlulilili.^  N  the  ancient  town  of  Bruges, 
T  £  1°  tne  quaint  old  Flemifti  city, 
Ip-  As    the    evening    (hades    de- 
scended, 

Low  and  loud  and  sweetly  blended, 
Low  at  times  and  loud  at  times, 
And  changing  like  a  poet's  rhymes, 
Rang  the  beautiful  wild  chimes, 
From  the  Belfry  in  the  market 
Of  the  ancient  town  of  Bruges. 

Then,  with  deep  sonorous  clangor 
Calmly  answering  their  sweet  anger, 
When  the  wrangling  bells  had  ended, 
Slowly  ftruck  the  clock  eleven, 
And,  from  out  the  filent  heaven, 
Silence  on  the  town  descended. 


^A. 


-  -.; 


25 


A 


Silence,  filence  everywhere, 
On  the  earth  and  in  the  air, 
Save  that  footfteps  here  and  there 
Of  some  burgher  home  returning, 
By  the  ftreet  lamps  faintly  burning, 
For  a  moment  woke  the  echoes 
Of  the  ancient  town  of  Bruges. 

O 

But  amid  my  broken  /lumbers 
Still  I  heard  those  magic  numbers, 
As  they  loud   proclaimed  the  flight 
And  ftolen  marches  of  the  mVht ; 

O  " 

Till  their  chimes  in  sweet  collifion 
Mingled  with  each  wandering  vifion, 
Mingled  with  the  fortune-telling 
Gipsy-bands  of  dreams  and  fancies, 
Which  amid  the  wafte  expanses 
4 


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Of  the  filent  land  of  trances 
Have  their  solitary  dwelling. 
All  else  seemed  afleep  in  Bruges, 
In  the  quaint  old  Flemifh  city. 

And  I  thought  how  like  these  chimes 
Are  the  poet's  airy  rhymes, 

:;   All  his  rhymes  and  roundelays, 
His  conceits,  and  songs,  and  ditties, 
From  the  belfry  of  his  brain, 
Scattered  downward,  though  in  vain, 
On  the  roofs  and  ftones  of  cities  ! 

->  For  by  night  the  drowsy  ear 
Under  its  curtains  cannot  hear, 

>  And  by  day  men  go  their  ways, 
Hearing  the  mufic  as  they  pass, 
But  deeming  it  no  more,  alas  ! 

*  Than  the  hollow  sound  of  brass. 


) 


CVv 


Yet  perchance  a  fleepless  wight, 

Lodging  at  some  humble  inn 

In  the  narrow  lanes  of  life, 

When  the  dufk  and  hufh  of  night 

Shut  out  the  inceflant  din 

Of  daylight,  and  its  toil  and  ftrife, 

May  liften  with  a  calm  delight 

To  the  poet's  melodies, 

Till  he  hears,  or  dreams  he  hears, 

Intermingled  with  the  song, 

Thoughts  that  he  has  cherifhed  long ; 

Hears  amid  the  chime  and  Tinging 

The  bells  of  his  own  village  ringing, 

And    wakes,  and    finds    his    flumberous 

eyes 

Wet  with  moft  delicious  tears. 
Thus  dreamed  I,  as  by  night  I  lay 
In  Bruges,  at  the  Fleur-de-Ble, 


- 


"    Liftening  with  a  wild  delight 


To  the  chimes  that,  through  the  night 


y   Rang  their  changes  from  the  Belfry 


Of  that  quaint  old  Flemifh  city. 


SONG   OF   THE   BELL. 

From  the  German. 


ELL  !   thou  soundeft  merrily, 
When  the  bridal  party 

To  the  church  doth  hie ! 
Bell !  thou  soundeft   solemnly, 
When,  on  Sabbath  morning, 
Fields  deserted  lie  ! 


Bell !  thou  soundeft  merrily  ; 
Telleft  thou  at  evening, 


J:,., 

~^f  CTi 


£o 


Bedtime  draweth  nigh  ! 
Bell !  thou  soundeft  mournfully 
Telleft  thou  the  bitter 

Parting  hath  gone  by  ! 

Say  !   how  canft  thou  mourn  ? 
How  canft  thou  rejoice  ? 

Thou  art  but  metal  dull ! 
And  yet  all  our  sorrowings, 
And  all  our  rejoicings, 

Thou  doft  feel  them  all ! 

God  hath  wonders  many, 
Which  we  cannot  fathom, 

Placed  within  thy  form ! 
When  the  heart  is  finking, 
Thou  alone  canft  raise  it, 

Trembling  in  the  ftonn  ! 

Longfellonv. 


:  :-^e-:4^ 


i 


«  ^^ 


s 

'   • 

f 

1 

) 

I 

s 

I 

:> 

- 

, 

] 

THE   CAMBRIDGE   CHIME. 

- 

- 

) 

\ 

y 

l^jftK&TU  DENTS  rowing  on  the  river, 

t 

< 

Ij^M  Brilliant  clubs  in  blue  and  white, 

( 

- 

- 

Lay  upon  their  oars  to  liften 

'( 

\           To  the  mufic  of  the  bells  ; 

Y 

- 

1 

While  the  waves  beneath  them  quiver 

• 

r 

In  the  sunset's  golden  light, 

I 

-•i 

r 

And  the  bubbles  dance  and  gliften 

\ 

1 

Far  behind  them,  gay  and  bright, 

; 

! 

u                   While  their  song  responfive  swells 

i 

- 

- 

To  the  mufic  of  the  bells. 

( 

V 

Y 
Hark  !  upon  some  Class-Day  morning, 

i 

T 
' 

1 

Gayeft  day  of  all  the  year, 

! 

- 

( 

Glorioufly  we  hear  them  ringing 

( 

- 

1 

Out  "  Fair  Harvard,"  loud  and  clear  ; 

< 

; 

Then,  when  round  "  the  tree  "  entwining 

'V 

I 

r 

All  Fair  Harvard's  sons  mall  ftand, 

\ 

v 
' 

\                                                                                                                                                         / 

While  the  sun's  laft.ray  is  mining 

'5 

r 

V 

'• 

j 

\ 

P 

—  £*•  "> 

^ 

3i 

fr 

On  the  academic  band, 
••; 

Auld  Lang  Syne "  fhall  flowly  sound, 

And  the  ftudent  chorus  swells 
To  the  mufic  of  the  bells. 

V 

jl 

Many  a  maid  fhall,  sweetly  dreaming, 
Walk  around  our  ancient  town, 
And,  her  eyes  with  pleasure  beaming, 
Hear  some  merry  marriage  peal 
From  the  belfry  floating  down 
Gently  o'er  her  senses  fteal ; 
See  the  Bride  in  bright  array 
Gayly  drive  from  church  away, — 

While  each  heart  responfive  swells 

To  the  mufic  of  the  bells. 


Homeward,  toward  his  Alma  Mater, 
Turns  the  son  in  after  years, 
And,  with  heart  and  look  sedater, 
Views  each  scene  which  reappears 
Peopled  with  familiar  faces, 
Voiceful  with  remembered  mirth, — 
Swift  the  vanifhed  paft  retraces, 


32 

j 

Bringing  back  the  loft  to  earth  ; — 
)         Then  descends  the  soothing  chime, 
As  in  that  delightful  time, 

While  his  heart  responfive  swells 
To  the  mufic  of  the  bells. 

E.  Batcbelder. 


OLD    CHURCH    BELLS. 

out  merrily, 
Loudly,  cheerily, 
Blithe  old  bells  from  the  fteeple  tower. 

Hopefully,  fearfully, 

Joyfully,  tearfully, 

Moveth  the  Bride  from  her  maiden  bower. 
Cloud  there  is  none  in  the  fair  summer  fky  ; 
Sunftiine  flings  benison  down  from  on  high  ; 
Children  fing  loud,  as  the  train  moves  along, 
"  Happy  the  Bride  that  the  sun  fhineth  on." 


Knell  out  drearily, 
Measured  and  wearily, 


Sf 

1 


4 


Sad  old  bells  from  the  fteeple  gray. 

Priefts  chanting  lowly  ; 

Solemnly,  flowly, 

Pafleth  the  corpse  from  the  portal  to-day. 
Drops  from  the  laden  clouds  heavily  fall 
Drippingly  over  the  plume  and  the  pall  ; 
Murmur  old  folk,  as  the  train  moves  along, 
"  Happy  the  dead  that  the  rain  raineth  on." 

Toll  at  the  hour  of  prime, 

Matin,  and  vesper  chime, 
Loved  old  bells  from  the  fteeple  high — 

Rolling,  like  holy  waves, 

Over  the  lowly  graves, 
Floating  up,  prayer  fraught,  into  the  fky. 
Solemn  the  leflbn  your  lighteft  notes  teach  ; 
Stern  is  the  preaching  your  iron  tongues  preach 
Ringing  in  life  from  the  bud  to  the  bloom, 
Ringing  the  dead  to  their  reft  in  the  tomb. 

Peal  out  evermore — 
Peal  as  ye  pealed  of  yore, 


• 


90S 

r^lfr 

tin®  :*? 


Brave  old  bells,  on  each  Sabbath  day, 
In  sunfhine  and  gladness, 
Through  clouds  and  through  sadness, 
Bridal  and  burial  have  both  pafled  away. 
Tell  us  life's  pleasures  with  death  are  ftill  rife, 
Tell  us  that  death  ever  leadeth  to  life  ; 
Life  is  our  labor,  and  death  is  our  reft, 
If  happy  the  living,  the  dead  are  the  bleft. 

Dublin  University  Magazine. 


THE    BELLS. 

EAR  the  fledges  with  the  bells — 

Silver  bells — 

What  a  world  of  merriment  their  mel- 
ody foretells  ! 

How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle, 
In  the  icy  air  of  night  ! 
While  the  ftars  that  oversprinkle 
All  the  heavens,  seem  to  twinkle 


t 

A 


35 


^a 

* 


% 

>• 


- 


With  a  cryftalline  delight ; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 

Pfi  To  the  tintinnabulation  that  so  mufically   wells 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells— 
Y  From  the  jingling  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells.        ^ 

Hear  the  mellow  wedding  bells, 

Ijj^  Golden  bells  !  ^ 

f:^  What  a  world  of  happiness  their  harmony  foretells  !  *;& 
Through  the  balmy  air  of  night 
How  they  ring  out  their  delight! 
From  the  molten-golden  notes, 


' 


i 


And  all  in  tune, 
What  a  liquid  ditty  floats 
To  the  turtle-dove  that  liftens,  while  fhe  gloats 

On  the  moon ! 

Oh  from  out  the  sounding  cells, 
What  a  gufh  of  euphony  voluminoufly  wells 
How  it  swells ! 
How  it  dwells 


Y^:.:-.  Y  •- 


On  the  Future  !  how  it  tells 
Of  the  rapture  that  impels 
To  the  swinging  and  the  ringing 

Of  the  bells,  bells,  bell?, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells,— 
To  the  rhyming  and  the  chiming  of  the  bells  ! 

Hear  the  loud  alarum  bells — 

Brazen  bells  ! 

What  a  tale  of  terror  now  their  turbulency  tells ! 
In  the  ftartled  ear  of  night 
How  they  scream  out  their  affright  ! 
Too  much  horrified  to  speak, 
They  can  only  fhriek,  fhriek, 

Out  of  tune, 

In  a  clamorous  appealing  to  the  mercy  of  the  fire, 
In  a  mad  expoftulation  with  the  deaf  and  frantic  fire, 
Leaping  higher,  higher,  higher, 
With  a  desperate  defire, 
And  a  resolute  endeavor, 
Now — now  to  fit  or  never, 


^K 


Yet  the  ear  diftin&ly  tells 


37 

By  the  fide  of  the  pale-faced  moon  — 
Oh  the  bells,  bells,  bells  ! 
What  a  tale  their  terror  tells 

Of  Despair  ! 

How  they  clang  and  clafh  and  roar  ! 
What  a  horror  they  outpour 
On  the  bosom  of  the  palpitating  air  ! 
Yet  the  ear  it  fully  knows, 
By  the  twanging, 
And  the  clanging, 
How  the  danger  ebbs  and  flows  ; 


In  the  jangling, 
And  the  wrangling, 
How  the  danger  finks  and  swells, 
By    the    finking    or    the   swelling    in    the   anger   of 
the  bells — 

Of  the  bells— 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells— 
In  the  clamor  and  the  clangor  of  the  bells ! 


Hear  the  tolling  of  the  bells — 

Iron  bells ! 
What   a    world    of  solemn    thought    their    monody 

compels ! 

In  the  filence  of  the  night,  ( 

How  we  fhiver  with  affright 
At  the  melancholy  menace  of  their  tone ! 
For  every  sound  that  floats 
From  the  ruft  within  their  throats 

Is  a  groan — 

And  the  people — ah  the  people — 
They  that  dwell  up  in  the  fteeple, 

All  alone, 
And  who  tolling,  tolling,  tolling, 

In  that  muffled   monotone, 
Feel  a  glory  in  so  rolling 

On  the  human  heart  a  ftone — 
They  are  neither  man  nor  woman — 
They  are  neither  brute  nor  human — 

They  are  Ghouls  : 
And  their  king  it  is  who  tolls  ; 
And  he  rolls,  rolls,  rolls, 
Rolls, 


( 


39 

A  pean  from  the  bells ! 
And  his  merry  bosom  swells 

With  the  pean  of  the  bells  \ 
And  he  dances  and  he  yells  ; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 
To  the  pean  of  the  bells — 

Of  the  bells  : 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 

To  the  throbbing  of  the  bells — 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,— 

To  the  sobbing  of  the  bells  ; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 

As  he  knells,  knells,   knells, 
In  a  happy  Runic  rhyme, 

To  the  rolling  of  the  bells — •- 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells— 

To  the  tolling  of  the  bells, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells,— 

Bells,  bells,  bells,— 

To  the  moaning  and  the  groaning  of  the  bells. 

Edgar  A.  Poe. 


K—<K&.-> 


THE  SPIRE  OF  STRASBURG 
CATHEDRAL. 


Night  and  j/orw.     LUCIFER,  ow/A  /*<•  Powers  of  * 

* 

lO''aS  to  tear    oiun  the  Cross. 


Y^ 


A 


Throng  in  legions  to  protect  it  ; 
<L        They  defeat  us  everywhere  ! 


• 


THE    BELLS. 

Laudo  Deum  verum  ! 
Plebem  voco  ! 
Congrego  clerum  ! 


o 

JJ| 

<xvi>          LUCIFER 

\/O\V    Lower  !  lower  ! 

\.       Hover  downward  ! 

Seize  the  loud,  vociferous  bells,  and 
Claming,  clanging,  to  the  pavement 
Hurl  them  from  their  windy  tower! 

VOICES. 

All  thy  thunders 
Here  are  harmless  ! 
For  these  bells  have  been  anointed, 
6 


°  • 


And  baptized  with  holy  water! 
They  defy  our  utmoft  power. 

THE   BELLS. 

Defun&os  ploro  ! 
Peftem  fugo  ! 
Fefta  decoro  ! 

LUCIFER. 

Shake  the  casements  ! 
Break  the  painted 


^ 


VX 

Panes,  that  flame  with  gold   and  crim-  <L/)* 

son  ; 

Scatter  them  like  leaves  of  Autumn, 
Swept  away  before  the  blaft ! 


VOICES. 


O,  we  cannot ! 
The  Archangel 


\{ 


r^=mv3!=:m-S" 
0^0 


. 


Michael  flames  from  every  window, 

With  the  sword  of  fire  that  drove  us 

/ 

Headlong,  out  of  Heaven,  aghaft  ! 

THE    BELLS. 
> 

Funera  plango  ! 
Fulgora  frango  ! 
Sabbata  pango ! 

Ot 

LUCIFER. 

Ek 

Aim  your  lightnings 

At  the  oaken, 

Maflive,  iron-ftudded  portals  ! 
0  Sack  the  House  of  God,  and  scatter 
',   Wide  the  afhes  of  the  dead  ! 


O,  we  cannot! 
The  Apoftles 


And  the  Martyrs,  wrapped  in  mantles, 
Stand  as  wardens  at  the  entrance, 
Stand  as  sentinels  o'erhead  ! 


THE   BELLS. 

Excito  lentos  ! 
Diffipo  ventos  ! 
Paco  cruentos! 


LUCIFER. 

Baffled!  baffled! 

Inefficient, 

Craven  spirits!  leave  this  labor 

Unto  Time,  the  great  Deftroyer  ! 

Come  away,  ere  night  is  gone  ! 


VOICES. 
Onward !  onward  ! 


- 


4. 

4 

I 


|T^ 


;,- 


4? 

>" 

^ 

. 


Over  field  and  farm  and  foreft, 
Lonely  homeftead,  darksome  hamlet, 
Blighting  all  we  breathe  upon  ! 

I 
They  sweep  a'way.    Organ  and  Gregorian  Chant.  "^ 

/ 


No<£r.e  surgentes 
Vigilemus  omnes  ! 

Longfellow. 


&( 
« 

J^iV 


Tf 

M~ 

T\d 
& 


~/Sfi^' ~< 


CHURCH    BELLS. 

"  Let  the  hills  hear  thy  voice." 

me    to-night,    my    mother    ^ 
dear, 

That  I  may  hear 
The  Chriftmas  Bells,  so  soft  and    T 

clear, 

To  high  and  low  glad  tidings  tell, 
How  God  the  Father  loved  us  well, 

How  God  the  Eternal  Son 
Came  to  undo  what  we  had  done, 

How  God  the  Paraclete, 
Who    in    the    chafte    womb    framed    the    Babe    so 

sweet, 

In    power    and    glory  came,  the    birth    to    aid    and 
greet. 


"  Wake  me,  that  I  the  twelvemonth  long 

May  bear  the  song  f 

About  with  me  in  the  world's  throng ; 


) 
1 


47 

That  treasured  joys  of  Chriftmas  tide 
May  with  mine  hour  of  gloom  abide  ; 

The  Chriftmas  carol  ring 
Deep  in  my  heart,  when  I  would  fing ; 

Each  of  the  twelve  good  days 
Its  earneft  yield  of  duteous  love  and  praise, 
Ensuring   happy    months,    and    hallowing   common 
ways. 

"  Wake  me  again,  my  mother  dear, 

That  I  may  hear 
The  peal  of  the  departing  year. 
O  well  I  love,  the  ftep  of  Time 
Should  move  to  that  familiar  chime  : 

Fair  fall  the  tones  that  fteep 
The  Old  Year  in  the  dews  of  fleep, 

The  New  guide  softly  in 
With  hopes  to  sweet  sad  memories  akin  ! 
Long  may  that   soothing   cadence  ear,  heart,  con- 
science win." 


In  the  dark  winter,  ere  the  snow 
Had  loft  its  glow, 


48 


This  melody  we  learned ;  and  lo ! 
We  hear  it  now  in  every  breeze 
That  ftirs  on  high  the  summer  trees. 

We  pause  and  look  around — 
Where  may  the  lone  church-tower  be  found, 

That  speaks  our  tongue  so  well  ? 
The  dim  peal  in  the  torrent  seems  to  dwell, 
It  greets  us  from  afar  in  Ocean's  measured  swell. 

Perhaps  we  fit  at  home,  and  dream 

On  some  high  theme, 
And  forms,  that  in  low  embers  gleam, 
Come  to  our  twilight  Fancy's  aid  : 
Then,  wavering  as  that  light  and  fhade, 

The  breeze  will  figh  and  wail, 

/ 
And  up  and  down  its  plaintive  scale 

Range  fitfully,  and  bear 
Meet  burden  to  the  lowly  whispered  air, 
And    ever    the    sweet    bells,    that    charmed    Life's 

morn,  are  there. 


! 


The  pine-logs  on  the  hearth  sometimes 
Mimic  the  chimes, 


49 

The  while  on  high  the  white  wreath   climbs, 
Which  seething  waters  upward  fling, 
In  prison  wont  to  dance  and  fing, 

All  to  the  same  low  tune. 
But  mo  ft  it  loves  in  bowers  of  June 

At  will  to  come  and  go, 

Where  like  a  minfter  roof  the  arched  boughs  fhow, 
And  court  the  penfive  ear  of  loiterer  far  below. 

1 
Be  mine  at  vesper  hour  to  ftray 

Full  oft  that  way, 

And  when  the  dreamy  sounds  decay, 
As  with  the  sun  the  gale  dies  down, 
Then  far  away,  from  tower  or  town, 

A  true  peal  let  me  hear, 
In  manifold  melodious  cheer, 

Through  all  the  lonely  grove 
Wafting  a  fair  good-night  from  His  high  love, 
Who  (trews  our  world    with  figns  from    His  own 
world  above. 

So  never  with  regretful  eye 
Need  we  descry 
7 


-~. 


Dark  mountains  in  the  evening  fky, 
Nor  on  those  ears  with  envy  think, 
Which  nightly  from  the  cataract  fhrink 

In  heart-ennobling  fear, 
And  in  the  rufhing  whirlwind  hear, 

(When  from  his  highland  cave 
He  sweeps  unchained  over  the  wintry  wave,) 
Ever  the  same  deep  chords,  such  as  home  fancies 
crave. 

Ever  the  same,  yet  ever  new, 

Changed  and  yet  true, 
Like  the  pure  heaven's  unfailing  blue, 
Which  varies  on  from  hour  to  hour, 
Yet  of  the  same  high  Love  and  Power 

Tells  alway  : — such  may  seem 
Through  life,  or  waking  or  in  dream, 

The  echoing  Bells  that  gave 
Our  childhood  welcome  to  the  healing  wave  : 
Such    the   remembered   Word,  so    mighty  then    to 

save. 

Keble. 


ST.   SYLVAN'S   BELL. 

Desire  of  me,  and  I  shall  give  thee  the  heathen  for  thine 
inheritance,  and  the  utmost  parts  of  the  earth  for  thy  pos- 
session.— Psalter. 

FORTNIGHT  it  was  from  Whit- 
suntide, 

And  a  service  was   said  that  day, 
In  a  little  church,  that  a  good  man 
built 

In  the  wilderness  far  away. 
A  twelvemonth  before,  and  there  was  not  there 

Or  temple  or  holy  bell ; 
But  the  place  it  was  free  from  holiness 
As  the  soul  of  the  Infidel. 

Five  thousand  years  this  world  is  old, 

And  twice  four  hundred  more, 
And  that  green  spot  had  foreft  beea 

From  the  eldeft  days  of  yore : 


7 
) 
J 

D 


And  there  had  the  red-man  made  his  hut, 

And  the  savage  beaft  his  lair, 
But  never,  fince  this  old  earth  was  young, 

Was  it  hallowed  with  Chriftian  prayer. 

But  now,  for  the  firft,  a  bell  rung  out, 

Through  the  aifles  of  the  wild  greenwood, 
And  echo  came  back  from  the  far,  far  trees, 

Like  the  holla  of  Robin  Hood  : 
And  the  red-deer  woke,  in  his  bofky  nook, 

That  ftrange,  ftrange  sound  to  hear, 
And  the  jeflamine-buds  from  his  fide  he  fhook, 

And  he  liftened  awhile  in  fear. 

But  the  bell  that  rings  for  the  Prince  of  Peace 

Is  never  a  beaft's  alarm, 
And  down  went  his  antlered  head  agen, 

Like  an  infant  afleep  on  its  arm  : 
And  the  woodman  went  by,  and  ftirred  him  not, 

With  his  wife  and  children  round, 
And  the  baby  leaped  up  on  its  mother's  breaft, 

And  laughed  at  the  church-bell's  sound. 


For  the  babe,  he  was  all  unchriftened  yet, 

And  well  might  he  leap  for  joy  ; 
A  fountain  was  gufhing,  where  rung  that  bell, 

That  fliould  make  him  a  Chriftian  boy  ! 
And  his  mother  —  (he  thought  of  the  Catechift, 

And  me  blefTed  the  LORD  above, 
That  her  child  mould  be  baptized  for  CHRIST, 

And  taught  in  his  fear  and  love. 


And  me  prayed  in  her  heart,  as  Hannah  prayed, 
He  might  kneel  in  the  chancel  fair, 


Like  children  they  brought  to  the  LORD  of  old, 
To  be  bleft  with  the  Bifhop's  prayer  : 

And  me  saw,  far  off,  the  vefted  prieft, 
\  The  ring,  and  the  marriage-bann, 

Making  some  maiden  a  happy  wife, 
And  her  boy  a  happier  man. 

And  the  bell  rung  on  ;  and  the  wood  sent  forth, 
From  their  log-built  homes  around, 

The  yeomanry  all  with  their  families, 
A-wondering  at  the  sound  j 


And  tears  I  saw  in  an  old  man's  eye, 

That  came  from  a  far  countree  j 
It  minded  his  inmoft  soul,  he  said, 

Of  the  church-bells  over  the  sea. 

For  a  boy  was  he,  in  England,  once, 

And  he  loved  the  merry  chimes  ; 
Had  heard  them  ring  out  of  a  Whitsuntide, 

And  waken  the  holiday-times  ! 
And  a  boy  was  he  when  hither  he  came, 

But  now  he  was  old  and  gray ; 
He  had  not  thought  that  a  Chriftian  bell 

Should  toll  on  his  burial-day. 

A  boy  was  he  when  he  firft  swung  axe 

Againft  the  ftrong  oak  limb  ; 
He    was    gray-haired   now,  when    he    heard   the 

bell, 

And  threw  it  away  from  him  ; 
And  he  followed  the    sound — for  he  thought  of 
home, 


'V-7^— 4  *^\-^> 


And  the  motherly  hand  so  fair, 
That    led    him    along    through    the    churchyard 

mounds, 
And  made  him  kneel  down  to  prayer. 

And  now  did  an  organ's  peal  break  out, 

And  the  bell-notes  died  away  : 
And  a  holy  Bimop,  in  robes,  was  there, 

And  priefts  in  their  white  array. 
And  I  heard  a  voice  go  up  the  nave, 

And  the  priefts,  responding  plain  ; 
"  Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  gates  " — they  said., 

"  For  the  King  of  Glory's  train  ! " 

And    I    could    not   but    weep,    for    I    knew,    on 

high, 

The  Saviour  had  afked  of  GOD, 
That  the  utmoft  lands  might  all  be  his, 

And  the  ground  whereon  I  trod  ; 
V    And    I    blefled    the    good    LORD,    that    here    at 
length 


0*^0- 

jOi  ~J-^f  ~-'  •     _'_^ 


His  own  true  heralds  came, 
To  challenge  for  CHRIST  his  heritage, 
And  hallow  it  with  His  Name. 

Now  pray  with  me,  that  ever  there 

St.   Sylvan's  bell  may  ring, 
And  the  yeoman  brave,  with  their  chil- 
dren all, 

The  praise  of  the  Saviour  fing : 
And  pray  ye  ftill,  that,  further  weft, 
The  song  of  the  bell  may  sound, 
Till  the  land,  from  sea  to  sea,  is  bleft, 
And  the  world  is  holy  ground. 

Arthur  C.  Coxe. 


> 


GODMINSTER   CHIMES. 

w 

I511ODMINSTER !     is   it    Fancy's       \ 

jyM  i3™(ci  * 

?|W  la    ? 

l£3i£j     I  know  not,  but  the  word 

Sings  in  my  heart,  nor  can  I  say 

I  dreamed  the  name,  or  heard  ; 
Yet  fragrant  in  my  mind  it  clings 

As  bloflbms  after  rain, 
And  builds  of  half-remembered  things 

This  vifion  in  my  brain. 

Through  aifles  of  long-drawn  centuries 

My  spirit  walks  in  thought, 
And  to  that  symbol  lifts  its  eyes 

Which  God's  own  pity  wrought ; 
From  Calvary  (bines  the  altar's  gleam, 

The  Church's  eaft  is  there, 


The  ages  one  great  minfter  seem 
That  throbs  with  praise  and  prayer. 


And,  all  the  way  from  Calvary  down, 

The  carven  pavement  fhows 
Their   graves    who    won    the    martyr's 
crown 

And  safe  in  God  repose  ; 
The  saints  of  many  a  warring  creed, 

Who  now  in  heaven  have  learned 
That  all  paths  to  the  Father  lead 

Where  Self  the  feet  have  spurned. 

And  as  the  myftic  aifles  I  pace, 
By  aureoled  workmen  built, 

Lives  ending  at  the  Cross  I  trace 
Alike  through  grace  and  guilt  j 


1 


One  Mary  bathes  the  blefled  feet 
jpij*      With  ointment  from  her  eyes,  ' '  I  AUoll-')|7 

With     spikenard    one,    and    both    are 

sweet, 
For  both  are  sacrifice. 


•;  Moravian  hymn  and  Roman  chant 

In  one  devotion  blend 
To  speak  the  soul's  eternal  want 

Of  Him,  the  inmoft  friend  ; 
One  prayer  soars  cleansed  with  martyr- 

fire> 

One  hoarse  with  fmner's  tears  ; 
In  heaven  both  plain  with  one  defire, 
And  God  one  mufic  hears. 


am! 


While  thus  I  dream,  the  bells  clam  out    ^ 
Upon  the  Sabbath  air, 


-DC 


6o 

Each  seems  a  selfifh  faith  to  fhout, 

A  hoftile  form  of  prayer ; 
My  dream  is  mattered,  yet  who  knows  4 

But  in  that  heaven  so  near, 
This  discord  into  mufic  flows 

In  God's  atoning  ear  ? 


oo  O,  chime  of  blefTed  Charity, 

f  <r\ 

Peal  soon  that  Eafter  morn 
When  Chrift  for  all  fhall  risen  be 

And  in  all  hearts  new-born  ! 
That  Pentecoft  when  utterance  clear 

To  all  men  fhall  be  given, 
When  all  .can  say  My  brother  here, 

And  hear  My  son  in  heaven  ! 

J.  R.  Lowell. 
Dec.  9,  1858. 


I  flf?iHERE'S    muflc    Bating    in    the  J 


breeze, 

A  harmony  that  fills 
The  moving  air,  and  seems  to  come 

From  harps  above  the  hills. 
The  diftant  notes  that  float  along, 

O' 


I 


^   Muft  surely  be  some  angel  song,  J 

X-       Too  sweet  for  mortal  ear ; 

$F 

^  And  only  meant  for  those  whose  sense  £ 
Is  tuned  to  heavenly  eloquence, 

SL 

And  holy  thoughts,  to  hear. 

A 

I  long  to  hear  that  sound  again,  I 

And  all  my  liftening  powers  apply, 


'* 


x;.->\ 
f« 

€ 


Tis  filence  all,  and  with  the  wind 

The  song  has  floated  by. 
But  hark  !  there  is  a  trembling  note, 
That  in  the  diftance  seems  to  float, 

Like  far-off  echoes  of  the  ftrain, 

It  kindles,  it  revives  again, 
The  diftant  sounds  approach  more  nigh, 

And  all  once  more  is  harmony. 

The    bells    which    peal    from    that    old 
tower 

Have  been  baptized  with  holy  rite, 
For  that  alone  would  give  the  power 

Such  solemn  feelings  to  excite. 
There  is  a  cadence  in  the  tone 
That  speaks  of  other  worlds  alone, 
For  sure  no  voice  of  earthly  song 
Could  to  those  trembling  notes  belong, 


1 


<J^¥EK 
W^Mm 


That  from  some  choir  of  harmony 
Floating  suspended  in  the  fky 
Vifit  us  here  below. 

And  whether  it  may  be  the  knell 
Of  parting  soul,  or  marriage  bell, 
The  solemn  message  seems  to  swell 
With  sound  prophetic,  to  impart 
Some  future  leflbn  to  the  heart, 
And  from  the  present,  or  the  paft, 
Recall  the  wandering  thoughts,  to  cart 
O  er    coming  times,    some    transient  .c 
glow,  o 

Or  some   impending  fhadow  throw 
On  future  scenes  of  weal  or  woe. 
From  a  Friend. 


/"W 

\jMin 


FROM   "URANIA,   A    RHYMED   LESSON." 


T 


HE  air  is  hufhed  ;  thevftreet  is  holy  ground  ; 


come  sound  ; 

As  one  by  one  awakes  each  filent  tongue, 
It  tells  the  turret  whence  its  voice  is  flung, — 
The  Chapel,  la  ft  of  sublunary  things 
That  mocks  our  echoes  with  the  name  of  Kings, 
Whose  bell,  juft  gliftening  from  the  font  and  forge,    i 
Rolled  its  proud  requiem  for  the  second  George, 
Solemn  and  swelling  as  of  old  it  rang, 
Flings  to  the  wind  its  deep,  sonorous  clang ; — 
The  fimpler  pile,  that,  mindful  of  the  hour 
When  Howe's  artillery  fhook  its  half-built  tower, 
Wears  on  its  bosom,  as  a  bride  might  do, 
The  iron  breaftpin  which  the  "  Rebels  "  threw, 
Wakes  the  fharp  echoes  with  the  quivering  thrill 
Of  keen  vibrations,  tremulous  and  fhrill  ;  — 
Aloft,  suspended  in  the  morning's  fire, 
Cram  the  vaft  cymbals  from  the  Southern  spire  ;  — 
The  Giant,  ftanding  by  the  elm-clad  green, 


1 


65 

)    His  white  lance  lifted  o'er  the  filent  scene, 
Whirling  in  air  his  brazen   goblet  round, 
Swings  from  its  brim  the  swollen  floods  of  sound  ; —    ' 
While,  sad  with  memories  of  the  olden  time, 
The  Northern  minftrel  pours  her  tender  chime, — 
Faint,  Tingle  tones,  that  spell  their  ancient  song,        ;> 
But  tears  ftill  follow  as  they  breathe  along. 

O.  W.  Holmes. 


FROM  "IN  MEMORIAM,  CIV." 

ING  out  wild  bells  to  the  wild  fky, 
^T\          The  flying  cloud,  the  frofty  light : 

The  year  is  dying  in  the  night ; 
Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die. 

Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new, 

Ring,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow: 
The  year  is  going,  let  him  go  ; 

Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

J 
Ring  out  the  grief  that  saps  the  mind,  ( 

For  those  that  here  we  see  no  more  ; 
9 


66 


Ring  out  the  feud  of  rich  and  poor, 
Ring  in  redress  to  all  mankind. 

Ring  out  a  flowly  dying  cause, 

And  ancient  forms  of  party  ftrife  ; 
Ring  in  the  nobler  modes  of  life, 

With  sweeter  manners,  purer  laws. 

Ring  out  the  want,  the  care,  the  fin, 
The  faithless  coldness  of  the  times  ; 
Ring  out,  ring  out  my  mournful  rhymes, 

But  ring  the  fuller  minftrel  in. 

Ring  out  false  pride  in  place  and  blood, 
The  civic  flander  and  the  spite  ; 
Ring  in  the  love  of  truth  and  right, 

Ring  in  the  common  love  of  good. 

Ring  out  old  fhapes  of  foul  disease, 

Ring  out  the  narrowing  luft  of  gold ; 
Ring  out  the  thousand  wars  of  old, 

Ring  in  the  thousand  years  of  peace. 


s- 

p 


Ring  in  the  valiant  man  and  free, 

The  larger  heart,  the  kindlier  hand  ; 
Ring  out  the  darkness  of  the  land, 

Ring  in  the  Chrift  that  is  to  be. 

Tennyson. 


THOSE   EVENING  BELLS. 

JHOSE    evening   bells !    those    evening 

bells  ! 

How  many  a  tale  their  mufic  tells, 
Of  youth,  and  home,  and  that  sweet  time, 
When  laft  I  heard  their  soothing  chime. 

Those  joyous  hours  are  paft  away  ; 
And  many  a  heart  that  then  was  gay, 
Within  the  tomb  now  darkly  dwells, 
And  hears  no  more  those  evening  bells. 

And  so  'twill  be  when  I  am  gone  ; 
That  tuneful  peal  will  ftill  ring  on, 
While  other  bards  mail  walk  these  dells, 
And  fing  your  praise,  sweet  evening  bells  ! 

Moore. 


FROM  "THE  GOLDEN  LEGEND." 


)OR  the  bells  themselves   are  the  beft  of 

preachers  ; 

Their  brazen  lips  are  learned  teachers, 
From  their  pulpits  of  ftone,  in  the  upper  air, 
Sounding  aloft,  without  crack  or  flaw, 
Shriller  than  trumpets  under  the  Law, 
Now  a  sermon  and  now  a  prayer. 
The  clangorous  hammer  is  the  tongue, 
This  way,  that  way,  beaten  and  swung, 
That  from  mouth  of  brass,  as  from   Mouth  of 

Gold, 

May  be  taught  the  Teftaments,  New  and  Old. 
And  above  it  the  great  crofT-beam  of  wood 
Representeth  the  Holy  Rood, 
Upon  which,  like  the  bell,  our  hopes  are  hung. 
And  the  wheel  wherewith  it  is  swayed  and  rung 
Is  the  mind  of  man,  that  round  and  round 


. 

. 

»  - 

I 

, 

- 

• 

•> 

} 

f  ^^  *^*r-^  *^*t~f* 


o 

/ 

:: 


Sways,  and  maketh  the  tongue  to  sound  ! 

And  the  rope,  with  its  twifted  cordage  three, 

Denoteth  the  Scriptural  Trinity 

Of  Morals,  and  Symbols,  and  Hiftory ; 

And  the  upward  and  downward  motions  {how 

That  we  touch  upon  matters  high  and  low  ; 

And  the  conftant  change  and  transmutation 

Of  action  and  of  contemplation, 

Downward,  the  Scripture  brought  from  on  high, 

Upward,  exalted  again  to  the  fky ; 

Downward,  the  literal  interpretation, 

Upward,  the  Vifion  and  Myftery  ! 

Longfellow. 


FROM  "IN  MEMORIAM,  XXVIII." 

time  draws  near  the  birth  of 
Chrift  : 

moon  is  hid  ;  the  night  is  ftill  j 
The  Chriftmas  bells  from  hill  to  hill 
Answer  each  other  in  the  mift. 


T 


70 

Four  voices  of  four  hamlets  round, 

From  far  and  near,  on  mead  and  moor, 
Swell  out  and  fail,  as  if  a  door 

Were  fhut  between  me  and  the  sound  : 

Each  voice  four  changes  on  the  wind, 
That  now  dilate,  and  now  decrease, 
Peace  and  good-will,  good-will  and  peace, 

Peace  and  good-will,  to  all  mankind. 

This  year  I  flept  and  woke  with  pain, 
I  almoft  wifhed  no  more  to  wake. 

i      y 

And  that  my  hold  on  life  would  break. 

'  .    • 

Before  I  heard  those  bells  again  : 

M 
But  they  my  troubled  spirit  rule,  f 

For  they  controlled  me  when  a  boy ; 
They  bring  me  sorrow  touched  with  joy, 
The  merry,  merry  bells  of  Yule. 

\ 

5r 


HOW   SOFT   THE   MUSIC   OF    THOSE 
VILLAGE   BELLS. 

)OW  soft  the  mufic  of  those  village  bells, 
Falling  at  intervals  upon  the  ear 
In  cadence  sweet,  now  dying  all  away, 
Now  pealing  loud  again,  and  louder  ftill, 
Clear  and  sonorous,  as  the  gale  comes  on  ! 
With  easy  force  it  opens  all  the  cells 
Where  Memory  flept.     Wherever  I  have  heard 
A  kindred  melody,  the  scene  recurs, 
And  with  it  all  its  pleasures  and  its  pains. 
Such  comprehenfive  views  the  spirit  takes, 
That  in  a  few  fhort  moments  I  retrace 
(As  in  a  map  the  voyager  his  course) 
The  windings  of  my  way  through  many  years. 

Coivper. 


S  when  the  fturdy  ringers,  spent  at  laft, 

Forsake  the  heated  ropes,  and  all  around 
Collect  in  liftening  groups,  what  time  the  sound       j;  \ 
Of  harmonies  aerial  is  caft 
In  one  completed  cadence,  far  and  faft 
Across  the  dark,  or  thro'  the  hufh  profound 
Of  early  dawning,  deftly  interwound 
With  waking  bird-note,  "  night  is  overpaft  ;  " — 
So  nave  we  heard  the  various  descant  rung 
From  many  a  poet's  heart,  (like  ivied  towers 
Vocal  within,  if  seeming  cold  and  dull,) — 
And  now  their  tales  are  told,  their  songs  are  sung, 
Prolonged  vibrations  on  our  thoughtful  hours 
Are  chiming  yet,  divinely  mufical ! 


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